Way Hot Halloween
by poetzproblem
Summary: Quinn finishes braiding her hair as she gazes at Rachel, who's currently gazing at her own reflection in the mirror. She's pretty amused at how thoroughly their positions have been switched from previous years. Fourth in the Halloween series after "The Legend of Halloween."


**Author's Note:** Fourth installment of the Halloween series.

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 **Way Hot Halloween**

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 _When I think about what I wanna do most in this world... it's you.  
~Waverly Earp, Wynonna Earp_

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"I'm not entirely certain about this, Quinn."

Chuckling softly from her seat on the edge of the bed they share, Quinn finishes braiding her hair as she gazes at Rachel, who's currently gazing at her own reflection in the mirror. She's pretty amused at how thoroughly their positions have been switched from previous years.

"That's usually my line," she points out with a grin, flipping her completed braid back over her shoulder as she stands.

It's Halloween, and once again there's a party to attend. This time it's being thrown by one of Quinn's friends and classmates from Columbia, where she's currently in her second year of law school. It's a lot of work and a lot of stress, but Quinn is finding that it suits her temperament. She's thinking she might go into family law, although Rachel keeps dropping hints that she should become an entertainment lawyer. Quinn thinks her girlfriend probably just wants the free representation.

Rachel's career is really starting to take off. To no one's surprise, she'd taken home her first Tony in June for her role in _Hadassah_. In fact, the statue is currently sitting on top of Rachel's nightstand because she wants it to be the first thing she sees in the morning and the last thing she sees at night. "After you, of course, Quinn," Rachel had assured her. Quinn has decided to indulge her girlfriend for the time being. It's only been five months, after all. Quinn is certain that the award will eventually get to stay in the very expensive display case they'd bought for it.

Rachel had only just taken her final bow as Esther three weeks ago after a very successful year of performances, and she's enjoying the much needed break from eight shows a week. Her agent has already sent along information on two potential Broadway musical workshops that are eager to have her talents along with a script for a new Netflix series that's expressed some interest in casting her for a role. Quinn knows that Rachel won't be unemployed for long, and she's so incredibly proud of her girlfriend.

She's also incredibly turned on by her current look, and she unabashedly lets her eyes roam over Rachel's body as she steps up behind her and places her hands on denim covered hips. For once, Quinn had been the one to choose their costumes, though she'd continued with Rachel's theme of picking a television pairing—absolutely canon this time, thank you very much—from a cheesy, supernatural western series that she'd stumbled over late last year and convinced Rachel to watch with her.

"This doesn't even feel like a real costume," Rachel complains with a pout. "I look like some meek, mid-western barmaid with questionable fashion taste," she grumbles, plucking despondently at her red and blue, scoop-neck, football-style t-shirt.

"Well…"

"Don't even say it," Rachel cuts her off with a mock glare, and Quinn snickers. She supposes pointing out the fact that two of those things actually fit her girlfriend pretty appropriately would kind of be proving Rachel's point about not looking like she's wearing much of a costume for Halloween. "And does this shirt really need to say Shortys?"

"Oh, it absolutely does," Quinn insists with a smirk, slipping a palm over the tempting strip of exposed midriff revealed by the way the shirt is tied up at the hem. "It's vital to your character." Right along with the sinfully short denim cutoffs that reveal an enticing length of tanned thigh and the cowboy boots her muscled calves disappear into. "And you look incredibly sexy."

A tiny smile tugs at Rachel's lips, and she sighs, turning in Quinn's arms to get a better look at the costume that she's chosen for tonight. "You're the one who's sexy," Rachel murmurs, lifting her hands to straighten the collar of Quinn's navy blue button down. "You always have looked amazing in a uniform," she purrs, raking her eyes up and down Quinn's body and lingering wantonly on the formfitting tan pants.

Quinn grins, because she'd pulled a few strings to put this look together—namely Brittany, who currently has an obsession with cosplaying that, frankly, Quinn doesn't want to know about outside of the potential ammunition to embarrass Santana. Still, Brittany had somehow managed to snag her a fairly authentic recreation of the blue and tan sheriff's uniform rocked by Officer Nicole Haught on _Wynonna Earp_ , complete with a brown gun belt with a water pistol secure in the holster, so Quinn can't be anything but grateful to her friend. She'd even issued Brittany an invitation to the party tonight in gratitude—with Caroline's approval, of course.

"I think you might need to keep your hair this shade for a while," Rachel continues, lifting a hand to smooth back a few flyaway wisps falling over Quinn's forehead. "I've suddenly discovered a previously unknown attraction to redheads."

"It better be just the _one_ redhead," Quinn warns, curling her fingers into Rachel's belt loops and tugging her closer. "Or there could be some very serious consequences."

"Are you gonna arrest me, officer?" Rachel asks seductively, draping her arms over Quinn's shoulders.

"I do have a set of handcuffs," Quinn murmurs, although she doesn't want to know what Brittany and Santana might have gotten up to with them before lending them to her. "If you're a very good girl, I might just have to use them."

Rachel licks her lips thoughtfully as she gazes at Quinn from beneath her lashes. "Don't you mean very bad?"

"Are you questioning my authority?" Quinn challenges with a raised brow.

Rachel purses her lips together, biting back a smile as she shakes her head in the negative. "Maybe I should just stop talking," she suggests with twinkling eyes.

Quinn chuckles huskily, slipping her fingers out of Rachel's belt loops so she can slide her palms over Rachel's ass. "See...you're getting better at this already," she quotes knowingly.

"Maybe _you_ should stop talking," Rachel counters, tightening her arms around Quinn.

Smiling, Quinn dips her head until she's only a breath away from Rachel's tempting lips, whispering, "Maybe you should make me."

Rachel does exactly that, closing the small distance between them to claim a kiss filled with promises for the private party they'll be having after the public one is over. Unable to resist, Quinn slips the tips of her fingers into the back pockets of Rachel's cutoffs, giving her ass a little squeeze that has Rachel moaning wantonly against her mouth.

"Can we just skip the party?" Rachel asks breathlessly.

"Nope. Santana and Brittany will be here in less than ten minutes," Quinn reminds her. She notices the calculating expression on Rachel's face and shakes her head. "And no, we can't manage a quickie in that amount of time."

Rachel's lips pull down into an adorable pout. "It's not like they've never made us wait for them to finish fooling around."

An unfortunate truth that has Quinn mildly grimacing when she remembers some of the sights and sounds that she and Rachel have been forced to witness. "Santana still has the spare key she made when she was helping us move in," she warns, reluctantly untangling herself from Rachel's arms. They never had managed to get that back from her. " _They_ might not seem to care when we accidentally catch them in the act, but I really don't want them to return the favor."

Sighing, Rachel nods in agreement. "Point taken. But later," she trails off, tucking a finger into Quinn's belt and tugging until Quinn has no choice but to be in Rachel's space again with their chests pressed together enticingly.

"I'll be completely at your service, Ms. Berry," she promises seductively, closing the small distance between them to brush her lips over Rachel's.

Rachel hums in pleasure, running her hands over Quinn's ribs as their mouths part. "That's what I like to hear from my law enforcement personnel," she murmurs appreciatively.

With a lazy grin, Quinn steps back from the tempting pull of Rachel's body and reaches for the cowboy hat sitting on the corner of the mattress, placing it on her head and tipping back the rim before she hooks her fingers into her belt and strikes a pose. "It's all in a day's work, darlin'," she drawls.

Rachel's eyes darken as they travel over her body, taking in the sight of Quinn in her complete costume. "Ride me, cowgirl," she breathes out dazedly.

Quinn smiles wolfishly, sauntering back to Rachel. "Oh, I plan to," she assures her girlfriend, giving her a firm pat on that delectable, denim-covered ass. "But later, babe."

Rachel's lips turn down into a pout. "You're still such a tease, Quinn Fabray."

Laughing delightedly, Quinn winks at her girlfriend. "But you love it."

"I do," Rachel admits with a besotted grin, reaching up to adjust Quinn's hat.

Quinn is just about to test out the best angle to kiss Rachel with her hat on when the moment is interrupted by an intrusive pounding from the vicinity of their front door. "We'll pick this up after the party," Quinn promises, reluctantly stepping away from Rachel again.

"We absolutely will," Rachel agrees as she follows Quinn into the living room while another impatient knock rattles their door.

"Hey, bitches, you'd better be decent 'cause we're coming in in ten seconds," comes Santana's muffled voice from the other side of the door. "Nine. Eight. Seven…"

Shaking her head in exasperation, Quinn picks up her pace and hurries to the door before Santana gets to one. She manages to get it open with three seconds left to spare and sure enough, Santana has her— _their_ —key in her hand, poised to open the lock. Quinn makes a grab for it, but Santana jerks it away.

"Watch it with the grabby hands, Fabray," she taunts with a smirk, quickly tucking the key into her ample cleavage.

"Don't think I won't go in there after that," Quinn warns, even as she steps back from the door.

"Always knew you wanted another chance to feel me up," Santana comments as she saunters into the apartment with Brittany right behind her. "Too bad for you I'm a happily married woman now," she points out with a grin, stopping in the middle of the living room and turning to pull her wife in for a kiss.

It's like looking at a DC comic crossover come to life and turned into lesbian softporn. Santana is decked out in full Wonder Woman regalia, from the fitted red and gold corset and blue leather skirt to the knee-high boots, arm bands, and headband. She even has a sword and shield strapped to her back and a golden lasso dangling from her hip. Meanwhile, Brittany is wearing a perfect Supergirl costume. They look amazing, but Quinn isn't going to tell them that.

"So not interested in revisiting that unfortunate indiscretion," Quinn dismisses with a roll of her eyes.

"And I, for one, would appreciate it if you wouldn't keep bringing it up, Santana," Rachel grumbles, coming to stand at Quinn's side. Even after all these years, being reminded of Quinn's little one (or maybe two) time thing with Santana still irritates her. Of course, that might be because Santana had taken such pleasure in making jokes about it at Rachel's expense back when they'd first started dating. "I'm sure Brittany would appreciate it as well."

"Nah. I don't mind," Brittany says with a shrug. "Santana was, like, Quinn's lick me test."

Quinn practically chokes on her own spittle, her face heating as her eyes fly to Rachel, who's making a face that's part confused and part disgusted. Santana barks out a laugh. "I think you mean _litmus_ test, Britt," she clarifies with a chuckle.

"Yeah. Totally that," Brittany agrees with a nod. "She needed to be sure she liked sweet lady kisses before she could start giving them to Rachel." She shrugs again. "And it all worked out the way it was supposed to."

Still blushing, Quinn smiles and slips her arm around Rachel's waist to pull her closer. "It did," she confirms, thinking how wonderful the last four years with Rachel have been. Rachel returns her smile with a small nod, and Quinn steals a quick kiss because Rachel really is the only woman she wants to be kissing for the rest of her life.

"So freaking charming," Santana mutters, giving them a judgmental onceover. "And what are you even wearing? Did you forget your costume, Shorty?" she asks with a snicker.

Rachel frowns, poking a finger into Quinn's chest. "See, I told you," she huffs.

"Don't worry, Rachel," Brittany interjects. "You're a way hot Waverly," she compliments with an appreciative grin. "And Quinn is a way hot Haught."

Rachel beams at her. "Thank you, Brittany."

"I'm glad you know who they're supposed to be," Santana mutters to her wife.

Quinn chuckles. "You mean there's a show with lesbians that you haven't seen yet?" she asks incredulously. "I thought your awesome gaydar tuned you into every form of media with queer coding so you can keep your terrible pop culture references up to date."

"Hey, my references are on point, Lucy Law-lez," Santana argues huffily.

"So on point," Quinn notes flatly, biting back her amused smile.

"Santana doesn't watch any shows with actual lesbian characters until after they're cancelled. That way she can make sure they don't die," Brittany explains sadly.

Quinn and Rachel both nod in understanding. They can certainly sympathize. She's hoping Officer Haught keeps remembering to wear her bulletproof vest—and Waverly's curious mind stops inviting demons in to play.

"I suppose purely subtextual relationships in the media do have their positive points," Rachel muses, winking at Quinn.

Santana shifts impatiently, crossing her arms. "Why are we standing around talking about fictional lesbians when we could be out getting our party on for realz? I didn't dress up like this just for the hell of it."

"You did it because I asked you to," Brittany reminds her easily, "and because you make a really sexy Wonder Woman," she adds, running her fingers over the eagle emblem on Santana's chest.

"Well, obviously," Santana agrees with a smirk before dragging Brittany into an x-rated kiss.

Quinn shakes her head. "God, let's go before we have to spray them down with kryptonite."

"I think that would technically only work on Supergirl," Rachel counters with a grin. "But ice water might do the trick."

Shrugging, Quinn pulls the water gun out of her holster and aims it at Santana's head. "Stop or I'll shoot," she warns in her best police officer voice. Santana only flips them off as she continues to kiss her wife, so Quinn decides to pull the trigger.

Santana jerks back from the kiss with a deadly glare at Quinn, lifting her hand to her wet cheek. "Bitch, you did not just do that," Santana growls while Brittany presses a hand to her mouth to stifle her giggles. Rachel doesn't feel the need to show the same restraint and lets her laughter ring through the apartment.

"I did warn you," Quinn defends, raising her hands—one of them still holding the gun—in mock surrender.

"You are so going down tonight," Santana threatens with a scowl. "And I don't mean on Rachel."

"Oh, she'll be doing that too," Rachel drawls with a wicked smile, making Quinn blush a little—but yeah, that's definitely in her plans for later.

Santana ignores the comment, taking a calculated step forward with her fists clenched at her sides, but Brittany jumps between them, placing one hand on her hip and holding out the other to stop Santana's advance. All she really needs is a fan aimed at her to make her cape flow in the wind and she might actually pass for Supergirl right now. "No fighting, San. If you mess up these costumes, the only thing going down tonight will be you…on the couch, sleeping with Lord Tubbington."

Santana's face falls. "But, Britt…"

"No," Brittany denies firmly. "It's Halloween, there's a party, and we all look super hot. Me especially," she brags with a wide smile. "And, you know," she continues, dropping her voice, "I've totally gotten you way wetter than that."

Santana's lips quirk into wolfish grin. "Yeah, you have," she agrees huskily, slipping her arms around Brittany's waist and giving her a (thankfully) chaste peck on the lips.

Rachel giggles when Quinn makes a whipping motion with her hand, but Quinn secretly thinks it's kind of sweet. Not that she'll ever tell Santana that, especially when Quinn knows that she's just as easily cowed by Rachel. After all, Rachel is the reason they even started this Halloween tradition, and Quinn is so very glad that she did. She loves dressing up with Rachel and acting like kids once a year—very horny kids who like to thoroughly enjoy their costumes in very adult ways in private.

Reaching for her girlfriend's hand, Quinn holsters her water gun and pulls Rachel closer. "I'll get you wet later," she whispers seductively against Rachel's ear, delighted by the tiny moan that slips past Rachel's lips—lips that she quickly captures in a brief kiss of their own.

"Hey! Stop making out with Berry and let's get to the party. " Santana demands, giving Quinn's shoulder a little shove on her way to the door. "If I can't mack on my hot lady, neither can you."

"Later," Quinn promises Rachel again, taking a step back but keeping hold of her hand.

"I'm holding you to that," Rachel responds with a grin.

"As long as you're holding me, I'll be the happiest girl in the world," Quinn murmurs, thinking how very lucky she is to have Rachel as her other half. And with a little more luck and a lot of love, they'll get to keep living out their happy ending for the rest of their lives.


End file.
